


Daddy Claus

by tprillahfiction



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Animated Series, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Humor, Christmas Presents, Christmas fun, Comedy, Gifts, Humor, M/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28281465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tprillahfiction/pseuds/tprillahfiction
Summary: To improve crew morale during the holidays, Captain Kirk decides to institute a shipwide Secret Santa tradition.One shot, complete!
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 8
Kudos: 74





	Daddy Claus

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Tempest

About two weeks before Christmas, Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy and Mr. Scott sat in conference room B. McCoy absently played with his empty coffee cup. Scotty stared at his hands, then the exit, then at the captain in rotation. 

Kirk grinned. “Alright, Gentlemen. Since you are my senior officers, you get to go first.” 

“Captain,” Spock broke in. “I am not quite certain I truly understand this tradition.” 

“Okay,” Kirk said. “I’ll run it by you again. You draw a name out of the hat—”

“This is a box. A metal container to be precise.” 

“Right, whatever, yes, Mr. Spock, it’s a box,” Jim said. “The point is, if you draw that person’s name out of the box-- any member of the crew-- you give that person gifts for an entire week and a day. Eight gifts total. One per evening until Christmas Eve. Each gift should be about the cost of 20 credits, Gentlemen. Not too expensive. And try to get more inventive than booze.”

"Ach," Scotty said, sulking.

"That's ridiculous," McCoy muttered.

“Captain, I fail to understand, why would this person I choose should receive eight gifts from me,” Spock said.

“Because you drew their name, Mr. Spock. That’s the beauty of this tradition. It’s because you want to bring them some Christmas cheer.”

There was a beat before Spock said: “I see, Captain.”

“You’re the Secret Santa, Mr. Spock, so you don’t tell them who it was that gave them the gift, until the last day. So each day it’s a surprise. They don’t know who gave it to them. Isn’t that neat? Then you reveal who the Secret Santa was, in a remarkable way, with the final gift." Kirk sighed, becoming obviously deflated. "It’s fun, Spock, believe me. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh Jesus.” McCoy rolled his eyes, surely there was some charting he needed to get done in his office. What was he thinking? There was always charting to do.

"Bones,” Kirk warned. 

“Jim, this is lost on poor Spock. We don’t need to subject him to this nonsense. Bad enough you’re forcing me to figure out what in the hell to buy some goddamned wet behind the ears yeoman third class down in Engineering, most likely, for this stupid thing.”

“Doctor,” Scotty said. “My young lads are not stupid.”

“I didn’t say they were, Scotty. I meant this whole,” McCoy motioned, “Christmas celebration stuff is stupid. I haven’t celebrated Christmas since my divorce. And I’m not about to start now.”

“I remember Christmastime back in Aberdeen,” Scotty said. “It was magnificent. Christmas crackers. Turkey with all the trimmings. A bender the entire month of December--”

“Alright, alright, alright.” Jim held up his hands, interrupting the chief engineer. “Let’s draw names. Spock you go first.” 

“Why does Spock get to go first?” McCoy said.

“I am the first officer,” Spock replied. 

“He’s the first officer, Bones,” Jim said. 

“Why don’t YOU go first, Jim?” McCoy snapped. “Being as you’re the captain.”

“I’m going last out of us here, because I’m a gentleman. Mr. Spock, if you please.” Jim held up the box. “Don’t look as you dive in there. Come on, pick a slip of paper.”

“Celluloid,” Spock corrected.

“Whatever,” Kirk said. “Pick one. Then look at the name printed on it.”

Spock gingerly picked a slip of celluloid.

"Careful, Spock, there might be sharks in that box," McCoy quipped. "Could lose a hand."

"Knock it off, Bones, or you don't get to play."

"Oh, boo."

Spock made a selection, ever so delicately pulling it out, looked at it, then promptly said: “I picked you, Mr. Scott.” 

McCoy promptly broke down in a fit of giggles.

“Oh no,” Scotty said. "That's not on." 

“Dammit,” Kirk said. “Spock. No, no, no. You're not supposed to reveal who you picked yet. Scotty’s right here in earshot. You spoiled his surprise. Bones, I said that’s enough.”

McCoy coughed, smirked. 

“Alright. Put Mr. Scott’s name back in the box. Forget you picked him. We’ll have to start over.” Jim stuck his hand in the box, mixed up the names again. “How about we start with you, Scotty?”

Scotty stuck his hand in the box, drew out a slip. He looked at the name, got very serious. “Alright. That I can do.” 

“You got it, Scotty? Good. You see how it’s done, Mr. Spock?”

“I see.”

"Doctor," Kirk said. "You are the next victim."

"Wonderful."

"Put your hand in there and pick a name."

McCoy rolled his eyes then dug his hand in the box, pulled out the bit of celluloid, looked at it. "Ahhhh, fuck me."

"That bad, huh?" Kirk asked. "Don't tell me, but let me guess. An ensign you've never heard of down in Navigation."

"Worse." 

"Listen," Kirk said, "not only is this Secret Santa thing to boost crew morale, it's also to get to know some of the kids below decks."

"Yeah. Great," McCoy said with a scowl.

"Alright, I shall go next." Jim dug his hand in, pulled out a strip of celluloid, then looked at it, nodded his head. "Nice. Okay. Mr. Spock, are you ready to do this?"

"I suppose I am," Spock said, unconvincingly. McCoy couldn't help but be delighted that the first officer was so uncomfortable.

Spock picked a name out of the box, looked at it, raised an eyebrow.

*

In the turbolift, Spock and McCoy stood, not looking at each other. "Bridge," Spock ordered the computer. "Doctor, whose name did you choose?" Spock asked him. 

"Unbelievable," McCoy said. "You don't like following the rules, do ya?"

"I am merely curious."

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

The lift doors opened onto the bridge, First Spock then McCoy stepped out. They flanked the captain on either side of his chair. 

"I think, I'm going to really enjoy this Secret Santa thing," Kirk told the both of them. "The entire ship is elated. Never seen so much improved crew morale."

"Yeah," McCoy said. Grimacing. "Elated. So'nuff." 

"Indeed," Spock replied.

*

Spock stood in front of Dr. McCoy's desk in the CMO's office. 

McCoy glanced up from his PADD. "What do you want, Spock?"

"I find that I do not know what gifts to give my recipient."

"So? What do you want me to do about it?"

"Tell me what I should do."

"Ask Jim."

Spock folded his arms. "He was no help at all."

"Oh. I see. I dunno. Alright. Gifts. First you have to consider the gender of the person. That might make a difference, or it might not. It depends."

"I see. The person identifies as a human male. That much I do know about them."

"So, you don't know the person very well?"

"I would like to know them better. However, I have discovered that I do not know them as well as I should."

"Oh, okay. Well, uh. You can't go wrong with uh...I don't know. Baked goods. I guess. That's a good generic gift when you don't know what they would like." 

"Baked goods?"

"Yeah. You know. food. Sweets, things that you bake. Confectionery, things with sugar in it. I don't know if you know how to bake, or actually the computer can bake it for you, I don't know. Reconstituted sweets. Yummy. I'm sure there's a computer tape you can find for some brownies or something. Put a bow on it and there's your gift. I'm sure Ensign what's-his-name'll be thrilled."

"What about the other seven nights?"

McCoy shrugged. "Give brownies every night. I don't know, Spock. Or put twenty credits into a goddamned Christmas card. Listen, I got work to do. I don't go up onto the bridge and pester you, do I?"

*

McCoy stood in front of Jim in the captain's quarters. "Hey listen, Jim. I got a problem." 

"What's the matter, Bones?"

"It's my Secret Santa recipient. I don't know what to get them. This is like the toughest thing I've ever had to do in my entire life."

"Tougher than getting into Medical School?"

"Believe me when I say that that was much easier than this is."

"Wow," Jim said, yawning. "Okay. Well, let me consider this one. Don't tell me who it is. But...I was thinking you could go the gag gift route." 

"The gag gift route?"

"Yeah. Like, give them stuff that's really Christmassy and silly. For fun." 

"Maybe I should exchange my person with yours."

"No, Bones. Come on. This whole thing is supposed to improve morale during Christmas time."

"What if they're Jewish?"

"Are they?"

"No, I just really don't know what to get my person. It's been bugging me all day."

Jim got out his Saurian brandy, poured both of them a drink. "Well, you have to give them something. Tonight's the first night!"

"I know, I know." McCoy took a sip of his brandy.

Jim snapped his fingers. "I got it!" He went over, got a box, handed it to McCoy and chuckled.

McCoy stared at it. "What the hell is this?"

Jim grinned. "Open it."

McCoy opened the box. "It's a fucking rock."

"Not just any rock." Jim took it out of the box. "Look. I got it on Telus IV. From a gift shop. In some back alley."

"It doesn't turn into a Gremlin if I get it wet, does it?"

"Not quite. It's a lump of 'clean' coal. Coal. You know, what Santa Claus gives to all the bad boys and girls in their Christmas stockings? Push the button on it." Jim pointed. "Right there, where it says: 'Put pressure on me'."

McCoy shook his head at the captain, then pushed the button on the lump of coal. It opened to reveal a.... "A diamond?" McCoy said. 

"Yeah. Get it?"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Oh right. The carbon, plus pressure, equals a diamond. Hahahaha, that's so funny, Jim."

"I knew you'd find it hilarious!" Jim said, giggling. 

"It's not a real diamond is it?"

"No, it's fake!" Jim guffawed. 

McCoy took a huge gulp of his drink. "Alright, I'm leaving." He polished off the rest of it, then put it down on the desk.

"Don't forget your lump of coal!" Jim said. 

*

McCoy decided to utilize Jim's the diamond in-a-coal and a succession of gag gifts.

He stuck the diamond-in-a-coal inside of a beautiful velvet green and blue Christmas stocking. He'd ordered it off of 'Instant Amazon' (it arriving in the nick of time, gorgeously personalized with the recipient's name). He'd also ordered eight real paper Christmas cards off of Amazon. All of them with cats on them in silly Christmas scenes. The card he planned on using for tonight had a cat coming out of a stocking saying: 'Have you been a bad or a good kitty?' 

In a sudden stroke of inspiration, or madness really, he signed the card in real ballpoint pen (with his left, less dominate hand): 'Happy first night. From your secret.... _Love, Daddy Claus_ '. He couldn't stop laughing as he stuck the card into the envelope and the stocking and the card both into a Christmas bag (with more cats on it). 

On his way to the recipient's quarters, he made a long, casual roundabout detour (in case anybody was following him). He set the bag down in front of his 'victim's' door, then darted off, and was headed down the corridor before he could get caught. 

As he entered the lift at the end of the corridor, he found Janice Rand. 

"Evening, Miss Rand," McCoy said, casually, as the doors shut.

"Did you drop off your Secret Santa gift? You have the air of somebody who's just done something sneaky."

"I resemble that remark, Janice," he said with a smirk. "Did you drop off yours?"

"Yup." She laughed. "They'll never figure out who it is." 

"High five," McCoy said. He raised his hand. Janice smacked her palm against his.

*

There was a brightly wrapped box on his desk, when he entered his quarters. 

"Why the sneaky bastard, entering my quarters like that. Could have set it in front of my door," McCoy muttered to himself. Right then he realized his Secret Santa had to be somebody familiar enough with him to do that. Had to be Jim, or Scotty or maybe Geoff M'Benga, or Nurse Chapel or Yeoman Rand or Lieutenant Uhura, or Mr. Sulu or Chekov, or....damn, there was actually a bunch of the crew who'd dare. 

He unwrapped the box. Christmas cookies. And a card, wishing him 'Happy Holidays' with handwriting he didn't recognize. A real card with a dog wearing a doctor coat with a stethoscope. Cute.

*

In the lift the next morning, with the Captain and Spock, Jim asked him: "Bones, how was your gift?" 

"Goddammit, Jim, whoever drew my fucking name is the best baker this side of Saturn, I'll tell you what."

"Care to run that by me again, Bones?" 

"My gift was a tin of Christmas Cookies, but not just any cookies, they were like an orgasm on a plate. I ate the entire gift with a couple glasses of brandy. Fucking hell man. My Secret Santa baked them themselves. Had to have. No computer did that." 

"Damn. You're lucky," Jim said. "I'll I got was a gift card. To 'Red Lobster'." 

"Really," Spock said.

"You've been quiet this morning, Mr. Spock," Kirk said. "Care to divulge what you received?"

"I would rather not." 

*

The next evening, McCoy put the red flannel pajamas he'd bought, with cats on them, another thing he'd picked up from Instant Amazon (except these things were more than 20 credits), into another gift bag, put a red bow on it. He filled out the card for tonight that featured a cat sleeping on a Christmas rug with a Christmas tree in the background. He wrote in it again with his left, less dominant hand, 'Here's something to keep you nice and warm. Love, _Daddy Claus_.'

He dropped off his gift in front of his victim's door. 

He returned to his quarters to find another beautifully wrapped box on his desk, with a card. Sneaky, sneaky Secret Santa bastard.

*

"So what'd you get from your Secret Santa, Bones?" Jim asked in the officer's mess as McCoy and Spock sat across from him. 

McCoy sipped on his coffee. "Lemon bars. A whole boxful of them. Hand made. Delicately dusted with powdered sugar." 

"Oh," Jim said, dejectedly. "That sounds nice. Aren't you having any breakfast, Bones?" 

"Nope. I'm full. Stuffed. This morning I ate the rest of the lemon bars with coffee."

"With all those extra sweets, Bones, I think you're gonna be as fat as a shuttlecraft before this thing is over with." 

"Hey, the quickest way to a man's heart is through his belly." McCoy rubbed his abdomen. 

"Really," Spock said, rolling his eyes.

"Jealous?" McCoy said. He finished the rest of his coffee. "Jim, it would be nice if I had some real coffee to go along with the lemon bars, but that's okay. There's none in the stores, I checked. Anyway, these lemon bars--"

"Don't tell me," Jim said. "Orgasm on a platter."

"And then some. I'm willing to say these are better than sex, that's for fucking sure."

"I thought nothing is better than sex."

"These lemon bars were."

"That good, huh? How come you don't bring any to share with the rest of us?"

"They're mine." 

"What a selfish jerk," Jim said. "Isn't he a jerk, Mr. Spock?"

"When is the doctor, not?" Spock replied, albeit little distracted.

"What's the matter, Spock? You've been very pensive this morning," Jim said. "Did you get a gift?"

"I did."

"What was it?"

"I wish not to divulge."

"Oh come on, tell us. Please?"

"What did you get, Jim?" McCoy asked, to change the subject and get the heat off of the Vulcan. Hey, he was feeling the Christmas spirit lately. 

"I got another gift card," Jim said with a scowl. "To some restaurant."

"Well, hey, that's not so bad, is it?" 

"It's for the Olive Garden."

"Oh," both McCoy and Spock said in unison.

*

For his next gift, he thought his victim needed a little festive music. He bought, from Instant Amazon, all of the 'Jingle Cats' music tapes he could. He put the entire music collection into the gift bag, put another bow on it. Filled out the card: 'For your listening pleasure, when you hear 'Blue Christmas sung by fluffy kitty cats' think of me, your Secret...Love, Daddy Claus', For I shall be thinking of you, tonight.' 

He didn't know why in the hell he was so evil.

But he was.

He dropped that goodie off in front of his victim's door. 

He made it to his quarters without getting caught, and discovered yet another beautifully wrapped box on his desk. Damn whoever it was, was spending a fortune just on wrapping paper.

He tore it open to find a bag of coffee beans. A grinder. And a croissant with a pat of butter and two little pots of real jam. He opened the card: 'I heard you like fresh coffee with your breakfast. Enjoy.' McCoy looked up from the card. "It's Jim. My Secret Santa is Jim." That's why Jim kept asking how I liked the gifts! Jim was the only one who could afford gorgeous Christmas wrapping paper and baked delights on his captain's salary.

*

The next morning he was all smiles to the captain in the turbolift to the mess hall. "Hiya, Jim!" He grinned, showing his teeth. 

"Must have been a great gift, Bones," Jim said. 

Mr. Spock joined them as they exited the lift. "Morning, Mr. Spock."

"Good morning, Captain, Doctor." 

"What gift did you get, Bones?" Jim asked.

"Oh, my god, the best gift ever. I don't know how my Secret Santa does it," McCoy said with a wink.

"Orgasm on a platter?"

"Coffee. Real dark roasted coffee beans, a grinder, and a delicate, fluffy croissant with jam. I toasted that mother fucker this morning and slathered it with butter and the jam and ate it and drank my coffee and thought I was gonna cream my--" McCoy looked at Spock. "Sorry."

"Wow. Who knew the doctor was such a foodie?" Kirk said. "Usually it's me."

"I'm probably gonna have to join you in the gym this week," McCoy said. "So what'd you get?"

"Another gift card."

"Well that's nice," McCoy said. "Isn't it?"

"The gift card is for McDonalds."

"Oh," McCoy replied.

"You've been rather silent this morning, Mr. Spock," Jim huffed. "S'matter? Don't like your gifts either?"

"I like them. I simply would prefer not to divulge what they are." Spock nodded at the both of them. "Excuse me, Gentlemen."

"Wow," Jim said, in Spock's wake. "He's pissed. Never seen him like that before." 

"Damn," McCoy said. 

"He did say he liked his gifts, however," Jim noted. "I wonder what they are."

"Something really personal," McCoy mused. 

"Hmmm. Yes." 

*

For his fourth gift, he gave his recipient a pair of beautiful red velvet slippers. No cats on them. They cost a fortune. But he still gave a Christmas Card with cats on it. He shoved it all into another gift bag, signed it: 'To warm up your delicate tootsies, love your Secret...Daddy Claus.' 

He left that in front of his victim's door. 

McCoy returned to his quarters to find another gift on his desk. Ahhhh sneaky Jim. He would pretend he had no idea who it was. That way he wouldn't spoil the surprise until the end. But really Jim had given himself away. 

*

He met Spock and Jim in the officer's mess the next morning. "Morning, Jim, Spock." He sat down across from the two officers. 

"Good morning, Doctor," Spock said, profoundly distant. 

"Morning, Bones. So what did you get from your Secret Santa, _this time_?" Jim asked with more than a just little rancor. 

"Oooh," McCoy replied. "Remind me not to fuck with you two, today. You know what, I'm not going to brag about my gift. I'm just going to savor my homemade fudge with cream and walnuts in it, and keep my glee under wraps."

"You're a fucking asshole, Bones," Jim slung out. "You know that?"

"Wow, okay," McCoy replied. "So, uh. Jim. Spill it. What did you get?"

"You wanna know what I got, Bones? I'll tell you. I got another gift card. That's what I got." 

"Well, that's nice. Isn't it?" McCoy glanced at the Vulcan, who was studying his food tray. 

"It's for The Cracker Barrel," Jim huffed out. 

"Oh," McCoy said. 

Suddenly Scotty came up, joined them. "Morning fellas," he said, sitting down. 

"Good morning, Mr. Scott," Spock said. McCoy and Jim nodded their greeting. 

"So, Scotty." Jim patted the chief engineer on the back. "What did you get from your Secret Santa?"

"Ach, I shouldn'a tell you lot, but uh....I got a wee bit of y'know. Each night." 

"What?" Jim said.

Spock shifted in his seat. "Mr. Scott received bottles of alcohol for the past four nights." 

"Booze?" Jim said.

"Uh...yeah," Scotty said, blushing.

"You are so goddamned lucky."

"Well, it's not like he's difficult to buy for, Jim," McCoy said.

"So, Mr. Spock," Jim said. "Care to divulge what it is that has been keeping you in such a mood these past few days?"

Spock sighed. "My particular gifts are...not the problem. I was expecting this sort of juvenile behavior during this tradition."

"So what is the problem, Mr. Spock?" Jim pressed.

"It is the signature on the card."

"What did the perpetrator write?"

"They insist upon signing it 'Love, 'Daddy Claus'." 

"Love, Daddy Claus?" Jim clarified. "Instead of 'from your Secret Santa', they write: 'Love, Daddy Claus'?"

"Indeed." 

McCoy smirked, Scotty started to chuckle, and Jim, in spite of the captain's previously foul mood, started hysterically laughing. 

Spock raised an eyebrow at them. "Gentlemen. Please."

"I'm sorry...." Jim held up a hand as he was overcome with guffaws. "That's the most...oh my God...that's...." 

McCoy couldn't help himself, he started giggling. He felt terrible. Horribly guilty. But, it was funny.

Jim still couldn't control his laughter. "Oh my God!" 

Spock stood up. "This is why I did not wish to divulge. Good morning, Gentlemen."

"Wait, Spock," Jim said. "I'm sorry. Whoever did this was a bastard. I will find out who it is and give them a stern talking to. I'll find out if it's mean spirited or serious. And we'll take it from there."

"You mean, Jim, somebody might really want to be Spock's daddy?" McCoy found himself asking. "They might be serious?" 

"Goodbye, Gentlemen," Spock said, before promptly exiting. 

Jim giggled in Spock's wake, then suddenly sobered. "Bones, you're on report."

"What?"

"You are horrible," Jim said. "Rotten to the core. You deserve a lump of coal in your stocking. I'm telling the real Santa." 

"What makes you think it's me, Jim? Could be anybody."

"You're the only one ballsy enough to dare do something like that to him. You playing with him and that's not nice." 

Scotty stood up. "Well, I'll be off to Engineering."

Jim waved as the chief engineer skedaddled. 

"I'm not playing with him," McCoy muttered under his breath. "I'm serious. It's the only way I can tell him."

"What?"

"Nothing, Jim."

"This is how you make things right. You're going to get Spock a really nice gift at the end, and you're gonna apologize for your stupid behavior. You hear me?" 

"Yes, Jim. At the end. I was already planning it." 

"Good." 

"You're the one who told me to get him gag gifts."

"I didn't know you had chosen Spock! Oh my god, all of your gifts are gag gifts, plus you signed it 'Love Daddy Claus? I don't even believe I know you, Bones. Don't you think that's going a little too far?" 

"Hey." McCoy held up his hands. 

"I'm leaving," Jim said.

*

In his quarters, McCoy wrapped his latest gift for his victim. In a box this time with gorgeous wrapping paper: A beautiful stuffed Sehlat, from 'Build a Sehlat', a Vulcan company selling on 'Instant Amazon'. He signed the card: 'A little something special to snuggle with at night, Love, Daddy Claus.'

He dropped that off in front of Spock's door. Then snuck away before he could get caught. 

He returned to his quarters to find another beautifully wrapped box on his desk, from his own Secret Santa. He opened the card, read it, and blushed. 

*

McCoy was glum as he appeared in the officer's mess the next morning. "Morning Jim, Mr. Spock." 

"Good morning, Doctor," the other two officers's said in unison. McCoy sat down across from them. 

"What's the matter, Bones?"

"Nothing." 

"Did your fabulous gifts turn sour? Or did you develop diarrhea from all of the sweets?" 

"No, my gift was fantastic. A box of freshly baked blueberry muffins. Heavenly," McCoy said. 

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's the inscription on the card. It's a...a little suggestive."

"Like how?" Jim demanded. 

McCoy glanced over at Spock, then whispered it into Jim's ear. 

"What?" Jim said. "'When you eat these muffins, think of me...eating you'? What?"

McCoy blushed. "Pretty raunchy, right?" 

"Wow." Jim chuckled. "It is, kinda."

"Ha. Ha. Ha," McCoy said with a scowl, "real funny, Jim." 

"Hey, I didn't write that," Jim said.

"The hell you didn't," McCoy grumbled. "So what'd you get?"

Jim sighed. "Another 20 credit gift card."

"To where?"

"'Kenny Roger's Roasters Restaurant'."

"Oh that's not bad at all, Jim!" McCoy said. "I love that place! Their food is delicious!"

Jim smacked the gift card down in front of him. "Here you go, Bones, Merry Christmas."

McCoy slid it back. "That's yours. I can't take that away from you."

Jim took it back. "Fine. Boy, when I find out who's been giving me these lackluster Secret Santa gifts--"

"Ah, ah, ah, Jim, you have to appreciate them," McCoy said. "It's the thought that counts. I'm sure it's a person who means well."

"You're right, Bones." 

McCoy noticed that Jim didn't even bother asking any more what Spock had received. 

*

That evening, instead of showing up in front of Spock's quarters himself, he had the quartermaster deliver and install it. Tonight's gift was a huge, real Christmas Tree with a beautiful tree skirt, the tree itself decorated with exquisite glass ball ornaments, garland, along with a beautiful star for the top of it. All of it ordered from 'Instant Amazon'. He refrained from writing from 'Daddy Claus' this time. Maybe that HAD been going a little too far. He remembered how embarrassed Spock had looked.

Since he never left his quarters that evening, no gift appeared on his desk, but he looked out into the corridor and found a card resting on the deck in front of his door. This Secret Santa was slick. Knew his every move. It had to be Jim.

He opened the card. 'Hello, Dr. Blue eyes. I heard you liked Kenny Rogers Roaster's Restaurant. This should be enough for two', it said. It was a gift card for Kenny Rogers Roasters Restaurant. But for 200 credits (instead of 20, like Jim had gotten).

He whistled. Damn. Jim. Going all out. 

And blushed at the 'Dr. Blue Eyes'. That was laying it on a little thick, Jim. 

*  


The next evening, he wrapped the 7th gift. Put a beautiful bow on it. How he was going to get this thing over to Spock's quarters without getting caught would be difficult. This thing was neat, it also came from Instant Amazon. It was a fireplace. It didn't have real fire, as obviously that would have been against regulation, but it gave off heat from a digital 'fire' with wooden logs. It was controlled by voice commands and was very homey looking. Cozy. He wished he could get one for his own quarters. 

He carried the giant box out and into the corridor. He made it over into Spock's neck of the woods, before he spied the first officer walking down the corridor.

Shit!

McCoy ducked into an alcove, before the first officer managed to spot him. He wondered where the Vulcan was going. No matter. 

When the coast was clear, McCoy gently laid the wrapped box in front of Spock's door. Amazing technology. The door to Spock's quarters knew he had no intentions of entering, so didn't open up for him. 

He snuck off before anybody spotted him. 

He returned to his quarters to find his Secret Santa had stopped by. There on his desk was a baking dish, with a bow on it, containing an interesting dessert. Never heard of it before. However, he tasted it and it was 'out of this world'. The most delectable dessert he'd ever had. Cinnamon and brown sugar and walnuts, and raisins with egg noodles and sour cream and flavors that tasted like vanilla. 

The card said: 'This dessert is sweet like you, Dr. McCoy. Love, your beloved Secret Santa'. 

He ate a slice with a glass of brandy and was in heaven. 

*

The next day in conference room A, McCoy sat with Jim, Spock, and Scotty. It was Christmas Eve. They were all in a melancholy mood. Things always felt a little lonelier around this time of year. 

"Next month we'll be having some shoreleave on Earth," Jim said. "Late January to early February." 

The officers (besides Spock) all mumbled their happiness. It would be way after the holidays but still nice. 

"So, Bones, what did you get from your Secret Santa?" Jim asked. 

"I don't know." 

"What do you mean?"

"It was delightful, but I don't know the name of the particular dessert. It was--"

"Noodle Kugel," Spock supplied. 

"Noodle Kugel?" McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Never had it before." 

"It is a traditional Vulcan dessert. We eat it around this time. We celebrate the bravery of Surak, 5000 years ago, who in ending the siege from opposing armies, saved the original Vulcans from starvation and relit the temple lamps with oil. We commemorate by consuming traditional dairy based or fried desserts."

"Oh. That's nice to know." McCoy nodded. Why would Spock know so much about his gift? Strange. Hmmm. Spock must have given the captain advice on what to give him. "Well, It was delicious."

"Why, thank you, Doctor."

After Spock and Scotty had excused themselves from the conference room, McCoy hissed: "Really Jim? The card? 'The dessert is sweet just like me'? Way to tease me!"

"Hey," Jim said, "I didn't write that. Honestly." 

"What did YOU get from your Secret Santa, Jim?" 

"A chia pet," Jim snarled out. "In the shape of the USS Enterprise."

McCoy hysterically laughed himself out of conference room A. 

*

Later that evening, McCoy slipped the gift he was going to give the Vulcan, along with a hand written letter of apology, into the final Christmas Card. He felt terrible about his treatment of the first officer. He hadn't wanted to hurt Spock. He just desired to spread a little Christmas Cheer. And flirt a little bit. The only time he could get away with it. He'd never be able to do something like this ever again. 

" _Dr. McCoy to sickbay. Emergency_." 

Goddammit. He hit the comm button. "On my way." He left the card with the gift on his desk. 

*

Crewman Connors had really done it this time. Fractured several bones: Five ribs, the left tib/fib, left radius, the pelvis, along with his left femur. Fell off a fucking ladder in Engineering. Way to go. Except Connors had coded during surgery this time and it took all night to stabilize this kid. 15 hours later and finally Connors was resting comfortably in a bio bed in the ward. 

McCoy pulled off his surgical scrubs, took a quick shower in his office head, changed into a fresh sickbay smock. He fell into his office chair and charted the recent chain of events and tiredly mumbled out a treatment plan to Nurse Chapel. 

"Oh, and Merry Christmas, Christine," McCoy said. 

"Merry Christmas, Doctor."

He laid his head down on his desk to rest his scratchy eyes for a moment. 

"Doctor." 

McCoy looked up from his desk. Glanced over at the chron. Damn, he'd been asleep for hours. Welp, he'd skipped the Christmas party. Again. "I missed 'Die Hard'," he said to the intruder.

Spock stood in front of him. "Pardon?"

"'Now I have a machine gun. Ho. Ho. Ho'," McCoy quoted.

"Doctor?" Spock raised an eyebrow.

"'Die Hard', the greatest Christmas movie ever."

"I see. Forgive me for disturbing your nap."

"S'alright, I should be up anyway." 

"I wished to bring you the final gift," Spock said. "Here." He held out a beautifully wrapped box with a stunning bow. 

McCoy took it from him. "Oh, remind me to thank the captain tomorrow. Whenever." 

"Why would you do that?"

"Because he's my Secret Santa," McCoy said. "Jim's terrible at keeping secrets, he really is. I found out it was him right off the bat." 

"It was not Jim." 

McCoy yawned. "Then who was it? I've gone over every possibility of who it could have been and Jim's the only one." 

"Really." Spock nodded. "Well, I bid you good day. Merry Christmas, Doctor." 

"Merry Christmas, Spock." 

It was only after Spock was long gone, that McCoy remembered he'd neglected to give the first officer his final gift. Goddammit. 

He opened his own gift. He tore off the wrapping paper, opened the box. It was a knitted, striped red and white scarf. So soft. And beautiful. He held it against his face. Must of cost Jim a ton of credits for this.

He opened the card, read the inscription: 'I knitted this for you, Love Spock, your Secret Santa.' 

McCoy's mouth dropped open. He threw the scarf around his neck, yelled out to Nurse Chapel he was going, and took off from his office like a shot. 

*

McCoy entered his quarters, snatched up the card with the gift. "Computer. Locate Commander Spock." 

" _Commander Spock is in the galley_ ," the computer told him. 

Interesting place for the first officer to be. No matter, it would be easier to apologize when the Vulcan was reading the card alone.

He left his quarters, went over to Spock's.

*

McCoy stood alone in Spock's quarters, looking around in amazement. He'd thought Spock had been embarrassed at the gifts. But they were all here, on display. The Christmas tree along with all the trimmings was here, it looked beautiful set up in the corner, near Spock's bunk. On Spock's bed was the stuffed Sehlat. The fireplace had been installed and was on, at the foot of Spock's bed. Made the place look very cosy and welcoming. The Christmas stocking, his first gift, with Spock's name on it, hung up on the shelf. Spock's new pajamas and velvet slippers rested on Spock's nightstand.

He set the card, with the gift inside, on Spock's desk. 

"Ah, Doctor."

McCoy spun around. Spock stood there, with a tray of cookies, it gave off a delicious odor. The Vulcan set it down, also on his desk. "I had surmised you would be here when I returned."

"You like this stuff?" McCoy motioned around him. 

"I do, thank you." 

"By the way," McCoy said, "I'm your Secret Santa."

Spock smirked. "I know. I realized that, approximately four days in."

"How?"

"You are the only member of the crew who'd dare call themselves 'Daddy Claus'. When I had mentioned it to you and the captain, you had a very interesting expression on your face: Satisfaction."

McCoy blushed. "About that. Look uh...Spock. That was really terrible of me to do that to you. I'm sorry." 

Spock drew closer. "Are you?" 

"I uh...dropped off your final gift. I hope you'll have a nice time. And again. I'm sorry." 

"You like your scarf," Spock said. 

McCoy felt it, around his neck. "I love it. Thank you. How long did it take you to knit this?" 

"A week. After I learned how, via the computer files."

"It has become my most prized possession," McCoy told him. Then motioned at the card. "My gift for you is in your card. Open it. Please." 

Spock nodded, then opened the card. He glanced at it, then looked up. "Two tickets to the Royal Ballet in London, England, for 'The Nutcracker'. Those tickets are extremely difficult to get a hold of."

"Well, I do have some connections."

"I see. And, I thank you. I am quite...astounded that you obtained these." 

"You're welcome. And mind you, there's a dress code. A tuxedo. So whoever you go with, gets to see you all gussied up in your glad rags. Maybe Jim or Uhura."

"Why would I ask Jim or Uhura to attend the ballet with me, when I wish for you to do so?"

"You want me to go with you?"

"Yes, Doctor, I do." 

McCoy nodded, picturing Spock in a tux, feeling his breaths increase, unsure of what to do or say next. "Well, I uh, I guess, should be going now. Merry Christmas, Spock." 

"Merry Christmas, Doctor." McCoy realized that Spock had suddenly gotten very close in proximity to him. "However, I do not believe you can leave yet," Spock told him. 

McCoy tilted his head. "Why's that?"

"There is a sprig of mistletoe above our heads. I am sure you are aware of the tradition. Are you not? Doctor?"

"You're joking." 

Spock pointed up. McCoy looked, sure enough there was a giant bunch of mistletoe. "Where'd you get that?"

"I also have connections." 

"Oh." McCoy let the Vulcan lean in and kiss him. When it ended, he said: "You know what, Spock, I do believe you like me."

"Really, Leonard." Spock kissed McCoy again, then pushed him onto his bunk. 

Later on, in a post-coital haze, McCoy was nude snuggled up in Spock's arms wearing only his scarf. Spock was wearing nothing but his new flannel pajama top with cats on it that was unbuttoned and exposing his chest, the stuffed Sehlat was next to them on the bed, the lump of coal was on the nightstand, Jingle cats played on the speakers. The Christmas Tree lights were on, the fireplace was roaring. 

Suddenly, the captain walked in through Spock's doors, calling out: "Hey Spock, I got an 'In-and-Out Burger' gift card for my final gift and you know who my Secret Santa was? Lieutenant Kyle! Can you believe--" Jim stopped dead in his tracks. 

The captain turned around and walked out. 

"What is this, Grand Central Station?" McCoy muttered before he pulled Spock in for another kiss.

____________  
end


End file.
